


Touch Too Much

by SlothSpaghetti



Series: Sleepless In Stark Towers [17]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5+1 Things, 5+1 trope, Anxiety, Anxiety Crying, BDSM Undertones, Body Image, Charity Event, Comic Book Science, Confessions, Established Relationship, F/M, I've decided DC comics is a pop culture refrence tony would make, Kinda, Paparazzi, Smut, Stream of Consciousness, Sugar Daddy Tony Stark, Tony uses JARVIS like a diary, hinting at subspace, iron man references made, photo booth, sleepless idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:20:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27776020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlothSpaghetti/pseuds/SlothSpaghetti
Summary: Tony runs through the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving with JARVIS.
Relationships: Tony Stark/OFC, Tony Stark/Reader
Series: Sleepless In Stark Towers [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1965925
Comments: 17
Kudos: 81





	1. Tony's PoV

**Author's Note:**

> I know my actually Thanksgiving post is gonna be like over a week late, but I really wanted to write this.

"JARVIS, create a partition in my super secret private server. Name it 'Touch Too Much' for me,"

"Of course Sir, what category do you want to go under?"

"My girl," I smiled to myself, thinking back to the last few weeks. “Okay, let’s review attempt one.” 

  1. **TECHNOLOGY**



After the blow up with Pepper and May, you hid in the emergency stairs for probably three hours. The call with Cali was in an hour and I was about ready to just cancel it. But then again that would probably play into Pepper's hand or she would make it sound like it did. I noticed you had walked all the way up to the living area floor. You were just sitting on the landing with your back against the wall. 

For the first hour, I let you be, in a sense. Obviously, Jay was monitoring you. Though I didn't think you'd hurt yourself, I didn't want to take any chances. 

During your second hour of self-isolation in the stairs, I patched through and asked if you needed anything or wanted anything. For a while, you just stared, with your knee as close to your chest as you could get them. I wondered if you heard me at all. This level of anxiety was something I dealt with before, but I never felt this need to intervene before. 

Bruce had his own personal coping mechanisms, the assassins had each other, the super soldiers the same. Peter cried and just needed to be hugged and allowed to work things through. He was the most involved, but the kid was 17 and saving the world on occasion. He was doing a great job. 

I had never felt such a strong urge to comfort and protect. I felt that fraternal comradery that came with being forced to work with others for a long period of time. I felt the paternal need to care for Peter. But this urge that I felt for you was completely foreign to me. 

"I didn't get to finish my lunch," you mumbled. I almost didn't even catch it, barely spoken above a whisper. "I'm sorry."

"What happened?"

"Some rando sat right next to me during class and kept staring at me," you huffed. 

"Did you not have time to eat before your art class?"

"The call with Miss Potts turned me off the peanut butter crackers."

Fair enough. Not exactly a call I enjoyed either. Still, you weren’t ready to come out yet. So another hour went by. I left Bruce and Rhodey in the lab and walked up the five flights to where you were. 

I sat down and crossed my ankles. Despite how much I wanted to wrap my arms around you I knew I should let you come to me. Which you did almost instantly. Your head landed on my shoulder. The plastic of your glasses dug into my skin but I didn’t care. I laid my hand palm up on my thigh so you could take it when you were ready. Again it was almost instant. 

“M’sorry,” you sniffled.

“Don’t be Sweetheart,” I kissed the top of your head. “I just want you to be happy.”

We sat in silence for a while longer, JARVIS alerted me that the Cali call was in 10 minutes and I felt you sigh. Fully bodied, your chest rising and shoulders being pulled back before slumping forwards in the out breath. 

“Have your call, I’ll make food for us, Daddy.”

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

**_Underoos -_ ** _ Don’t let Aunt May keep your love from conquering all.  _

**_Underoos -_ ** _ also don’t tell her MJ stayed over at Halloween pls.  _

**_Underoos -_ ** _ she's on a rampage _

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

I stared at Peter’s messages, the voices on the conference call muddling into one monotone sound that could put anyone to sleep. When you entered with two plates, I muted my end of the call. A steaming hot dish of stir fried veg and noodles was set in front of me. 

“Thanks, Babygirl,” I smiled

We ate in silence, I’d occasionally have to make a comment on the call, but really it wasn’t that important. Things I already knew were being repeated incessantly and everyone else was just eating it up. Finally when it ended, Pep only stayed on long enough to remind me that there was a board meeting tomorrow at noon.

“She sounds like she is still upset,” you stabbed particularly hard into a pepper slice. 

“Pep will get over it,” I forked the last vegetable into my mouth. “Can I see your glasses?”

You handed them over without question.  _ So good at following instructions. _ I unscrewed the legs from the frames and replaced them with Anti-Pap Privacy ones I’d wiped up. Patriot Pants and Buckethead had these as well, but their’s weren’t as smart as these ones, seeing as your’s were for actual sight and not Clark Kent-ing around the city.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Giving you the gift of privacy,” I grinned and handed back your glasses. 

“How so?”

You looked at the frame, feeling the new legs, before setting them on your face. 

"They feel the same," you took a big bite of noodles.

I hummed in agreement and took out my phone. Just as your lips closed around the fork I snapped the picture. 

"Daddy, no, I'm trying to eat," you slapped your hand in front of your mouth. "Not cool dude."

"I would say it's very cool," I showed you the photo.

Similar to Halloween, the image was distorted, a flare created over your face by the shutter closing in the camera. You couldn't even tell what was on the plate in front of you.

"Okay," you swallowed. "That's kinda cool, but how are we gonna take pictures together? It was on your list."

"Easy," I smiled, moving to stand next to you. "When you adjust the lenses," I took your hand and moved your finger to the right leg of the frame, "just slide your finger here and it disables the flare function."

"Does it turn back on by itself or do I have to re-enable it?"

"Automatically turns back on after it catches a shutter from a camera or 60 seconds, but you can disable it for longer by double tapping the bar."

"Can we test it out?" 

The innocent, shy way you asked me to take a simple selfie with you pooled all the blood in my body right into my second brain. I don't how the fuck you could keep sounding so sweet, but you did and I wanted to hear you say all sort of dirty things in that voice. 

"I've got a better idea."

I marched us to the elevator and took us to the sub-basement. Okay, maybe that was a bit creepy, just taking you into my proverbial basement like a murder. This was still going to be a good idea. 

The doors opened and the security lights turned on. Okay, the murder vibe was definitely not dissipating. But you seemed relaxed, absolutely trusting that whatever I was taking us down here to do would be great. The second brain in my pants was running circles around my actual brain trying to take control. 

"You just… have one of these?" You asked. 

"They come in handy for work events and fun charity galas."

I plugged in the booth and you pulled back the curtain. The screen and neon lights illuminated the basement. I slid in next to you on the cushioned bench before pulling the curtain closed. 

"All right, show me how to turn off the flare."

"Yes, Daddy," you smiled and double tapped the frame. 

"Good girl," I smirked.

The display started the countdown, our blurry image appeared just below the camera. I threw my arm around your shoulder. A canned capture sound went off and the first picture was taken. No flare appeared and another countdown came up.

I kissed your cheek and felt you giggle. Capture. Your hand grabbed my thigh and I tilted your chin so you were looking at me. _Capture._ I kissed you, pulling you closer to me, feeling your soft warm body mold to mine like it was meant to be there. _Capture._

Okay, my second brain was getting tired of the cutesy, PG photos. And so was yours. Your mouth opened and I took the opportunity that came with that. My tongue darted into yours. I wanted to pull all of those sinful sounds out of you again.

I maneuvered you into my lap. Your glorious ass pressed right against my throbbing cock. My lips found the exposed skin on your neck while my hands circled your waist, under your shirt. _Capture._

"Daddy."

"Stay still Babygirl," I started opening up your button down, the flannel fabric falling to the side to reveal a lace bralette. _Capture._

Your head was thrown back onto my shoulder, heavy breaths fanning across my neck as I let my hands work their magic. _Capture._

"God, you feel so good, Honey. Soft and warm. Are you gonna be good for me? Gonna be a good girl for Daddy?"

"Yes," you whimpered, pressing a bit harder into my crotch. "Wanna be good Daddy, please."

_ Capture. _

"Take off your pants Baby."

As your pants came off, I opened mine up. God your ass was perfection. I wanted to sink my teeth into it. I tugged you back onto my lap, draping both of your legs over mine, exposing you to the camera. Even with the low quality screen I could see how wet you were. _Capture._

"What's your color, Babygirl?" I ran my hands over your bare thighs, squeezing, letting you adjust to this.

"Green," you whined. "Please so green, need you to touch me." _Capture._

I ground my cock between your sopping wet folds, letting out a deep groan. Fuck. The bralette needed to go. I needed to feel all of you under my hands. I pulled the fabric down, releasing one of your breasts. _Capture._

"Inside me, please Daddy, need you to fuck me," you whined, grabbing my hand over your breast, pressing harder.

"God, sound so pretty when you beg for me cock. Tell me how bad you want it, Sweetheart." _Capture._

Fuck this was torture, I wanted it to never end though. My hips kept moving between us, teasing your hole and clit. _Capture._

"Fuck Daddy, I want your cock inside me. Wanna feel you. Feel empty without you. Please I need to be f-"

I plunged my cock into you. Your choked moan completely washed over me. _Capture._

"Shit, that's it Baby, keep squeezing my dick like that. Fuck, so good for me Sweetheart," I pulled out slightly, moaning as your pussy tried to keep me buried inside you. "You hungry for Daddy's cock Baby? Don't wanna let me go." 

_ Capture. _

"Feel so good, so green, needed this, need you Daddy, don't ever wanna stop, fuck there please, right there, make me feel so good Daddy, fill me up, please."

Jesus H. Christ. 

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

“Sir, why is this classed as an attempt? It seemed successful to me.”

“Jay, it’s not a gift if she needed it.”

“Very well, then.”

“Attempt two…”

  1. **CLOTHES**



Waking up next to you, your naked body pressed against mine, was hands down the best thing of the century. In first place for all time had to be you cumming on my dick. That was pure fucking ecstasy right to my nervous system and every fiber of my being. I was pretty sure if I could bottle that feeling up, world peace would be achieved in less than 24 hours then would collapse because everyone would become addicted junkies. Kinda like I was. 

But the second best feeling of all time was trying to run away from me. 

“Where’re you goin’ Baby?”

“I got an idea for somethin’, need to write it down,” you slurred, still half asleep.

Well I guess now was as good a time as any to wake up since you took the duvet with you. I watched your fuzzy, plush form wander towards the living room before I finally threw back the sheet and got up. As I walked into the closet, the lights faded up and JARVIS displayed the top news, my calendar, and important notifications on the vanity mirror. It was just after eight in the morning… at least we got more sleep than I thought we would. 

Tom Ford sang to me in the form of a wool, O’Conner fit, houndstooth suit. It’s getting cold enough now, houndstooth was definitely appropriate. I was half-dressed, laying out my tie options and picking out pocket squares for the day when you wandered in to join me. There were two mugs of hot coffee in your hand. 

“Go with the left red one,” you murmured, sipping your coffee and leaning against the vanity. A sight I could get used to every day.

“Can you pick out some cufflinks and a watch to go with?” 

On cue, the drawers lit up and extended out of the wall. I put away the unchosen tie and grabbed the matching pocket square. Shoes and an overcoat were selected next, before I finished getting dressed.

I walked over and wrapped my arms around you, peering over your shoulder. Your fingers ghosted over the watches, not actually touching anything. What were you scared of?

“Daddy, I,” you twisted to look at me. “I don’t know what to choose.”

"Normally with this suit I wear this watch," a Cartier with custom red accents, "and these cufflinks," a platinum set with minimal detail. 

"They look like screws."

"Yeah that's why I like them," I grinned. "Now get dressed, we can get breakfast before my meeting."

I was rinsing out my coffee mug when you announced that you were ready to go.

"Where's your jacket?"

"Indiana."

"JARVIS call the place, the one I had you look up last week, we'll be there in like 30 minutes."

So rather than going to get breakfast somewhere decent, I parked the Audi outside a private boutique next to the Garment District. Just like last night, there was no questioning me. You just rolled with it. A part of me didn't want to question it all, loved that you were so obedient on instinct. But the better part of me knew I should be checking in, asking you rather than telling you.

"If you were a bird, what bird would you be?"

"Phoenix, no question about it," I smirked at your silly question. "You game for a very quick shopping trip?"

There was a moment of hesitation, telling me you weren't as immediately trusting as you could be and that made me happy. You weren't just doing whatever I said to please me.

"Yeah," you gave me a stern nod.

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

“I assume this falls under a need rather than a gift then Sir?”

“Yes, it was freezing outside and she only had a sweatshirt."

“Does the dress count as a gift or was the whole evening an attempt?”

“Let’s run through it again.”

  1. **EXPERIENCE**



**_Babygirl 🌜 -_ ** _ is it Friday yet? _

**_Me -_ ** _ no  _ 😭

**_Me -_ ** _ but speaking of Friday. Cap and Bucket are doing a talk on art and life in the 40s. You wanna go? _

**_Babygirl 🌜_ ** _ \- YYYYYAAAASSSSSSSSS _

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

Okay, so I probably should have prefaced that invitation with 'charity event at the Guggenheim', but it didn't honestly occur to me. They invited me months ago and any reason to support the arts was good in my book. They also had one of my Pollock's on display for an exhibit, so it would be nice to see it again. 

Also, I got to buy an outfit for you for the night, which really was reason enough to do anything at this point. After the positive experience buying the jacket, I felt pretty damn good about knowing what to get you. You wore your clothes like a suit of armour, shielding yourself from the view of others and the coat you picked out really showed that. The black cashmere jacket's simple, structured design had a straight cut that hid all your curves. Which I had mixed feelings about because on one hand I wanted to show you off and on the other hand I felt selfish and wanted to be the only one who saw your gorgeous body. Ultimately, I think you chose it because it was soft and had big pockets. 

You arrived at the tower in a flurry on motion, your backpack sticking out over the intense black of your coat. Peter was hot on your tail for some reason. 

"Hurry up, Petey, chop chop."

"Why can't we just go there first?"

"Not our basement, we gotta ask."

"Children," I greeted, rolling away from the operation table.

"Hey," you smiled and kissed my cheek. Oh, that was a greeting I could get used to. "Can we use the photo booth?"

I looked over at Peter. He bounced on the spot, clearly excited. You obviously hadn't told him what we did in that booth because I think he would die before stepping foot in it if he knew. 

"Sure, Happy's picking us up at eight so we have plenty of time."

"Are you guys going to Mr. Roger's charity dinner?" Peter walked over to the table to look at the inside of the suit.

"It's not his dinner, he is just the guest of honor," I waved his hand away from a live wire. "It's like an arts benefit."

"Why is he the guest of honor then?" He picked up a screw driver.

"Don't touch," I grabbed the tool. "He and Man Bun are gonna talk about life in the 40s and art at the time while New York elitists ask dumb questions."

"That sounds boring."

"It will be fine, the food is always good, and I made sure our table only had good people at it."

If I had been paying more attention to you, I would have noticed the freaked out body language you were exhibiting. But Peter and I were absorbed in shop talk. It wasn't until Jay reminded me that it was time to get ready that we actually remembered why Peter came around initially. 

"Bye fam, we can photo booth it up another day. Aunt May will get mad if I miss larb night again. Text me," Peter hugged you on the couch.

You barely even mumbled a reply. I waved goodbye and cleared up my work before going over to you. Your jacket was carefully folded over the opposite arm of the couch. It made me smirk. 

"Hey Baby, you okay?"

"Do you really want me to go to that fancy dinner?"

Your voice was small and unsure. Your nose scrunched up a bit while you thought about something. I grabbed your hand and pulled you up from the couch.

"I don't even have nice clothes with me."

"That is where you are wrong," I smiled. 

I had to pat myself on my back. The dress was fucking phenomenal on you and you couldn't stop smiling. The black velvet and tulle was appropriate for the evening and wasn’t too flashy for your taste. Sheer sleeves and scallop detail only enhanced your features. Maybe I could be a personal shopper if heroing didn’t work out?

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

“You do still own Stark Industries, Sir.”

“True, true, back to why this classes as an attempt.”

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

Happy pulled the Rolls forward, up to the front of the building. The nervous energy you radiated was almost suffocating. You fiddled with your hair, your phone, your glasses, anything that wasn’t affixed to you really. The valet and Happy switched positions and our door opened. I got out first, cameras began flashing and I held out my arm for you.

There was a moment I thought you wouldn't get out. But then a shaky hand latched onto the sleeve of my suit. If that wasn't one of the best damn family picture smiles I'd ever seen. I plastered my own practiced smirk on. You stepped out of the car and like the queen you fucking are, you walked up the steps into the museum like nothing on this earth could touch you. 

I was in awe. The smirk on my face became more and more real as you straight up ignored the reporters shouting for our attention.  _ ARTGIRL, MR STARK, IRON MAN, ARTGIRL, MRS STARK. _

Okay, so that last one almost had me doing a double take trying to find the reporter shouting.

Happy easily shooed away anyone who got too friendly with the ropes and tried to get closer. Your eyes never left the doors ahead. It really took all of my personal strength to not stop to fuck up their photos. It would be so easy to taunt them. 

But as I slowed down, you squeezed my arm, the chipped red nail polish from Halloween still hanging on and standing out against my black suit. Fine, we could stop another time and fuck up some scum of the earth’s work. 

Once through the doors and Happy had exchanged our invitation for three monogrammed programs. I watched the way your fingers traced over my initials on the heavy paper. You barely even noticed the super soldiers making their way towards us. 

“Queenie, glad you could make it.”

“You look great, Doll.”

“Thanks, guys,” you smiled half heartedly, a blush rising to your cheeks. “Ya know, you could have mentioned that this was gonna be so… so fancy when I told you I was excited to see you guys.”

A waiter passed with a tray of champagne flutes. I grabbed two, handing one off to you without much thought. No one else seemed to have any thoughts about either until we sat down for the dinner and you still hadn’t taken a sip. 

I was an idiot.

As discreetly as I could, I swapped our glasses. I wasn’t even sure what I could order you. You drank coffee… and water? Maybe? Really, I only ever saw you drinking some form of coffee. How did I not know what to order you?

Steve and Bucky were easily pulled into a conversation with the other guests - some old money foggy and some tech start-up woman - at the table, trying to get a sneak peek of what they would be discussing tonight. I wrapped my arm over the back of your chair, intent on asking you wanted to actually drink when the chair next to you was pulled out.

“Well if it isn’t my two favorite people.”

FUCK. FUCKING HAMMER. I really did just want to flip the table. I made sure this table was set up so it would be an easy night for Steve and Bucky. I definitely made fucking sure that fucking asshat wasn’t sat here. Sure I couldn’t demand they not invite him… well maybe I could have. I hadn’t really thought about it being a necessity until now. 

“Mr. Hammer,” you plastered on that polite family picture smile.

“Justin, please call me Justin.”

“No, thank you Mr. Hammer, if you’ll excuse me I’m going to get a drink at the bar.”

EFFORTLESS. SKILLFUL. BEAUTIFUL.

Christ if that didn’t give me a semi. Who was this girl? I’d never seen you so cold. Your hips swayed subtly as you wove through the crowd making your way to the bar. The smirk that played on my lips was absolutely the smuggest thing in this room, which was honestly saying something. 

“So Tony, how ya been buddy?” He turned his attention to me.

I let the venom I felt seep into my words, “Justin, don’t you have a table or escort to get back to?”

“Ha, no, my date is at the bar. I just saw you two and want to say hi,” he made a waving motion, a smug look on his face. Why was he so fucking smug? “You remember Christine from Vanity Fair right?”

_ Fuck. Fuck and shit. That know it all bitch. _

I knocked my glass over on the table. 

“Oh, would you look at that? Clumsy me. Let me go find someone to clean that up.”

God, I hate that two-bit sack of shit. He would bring that woman. God fucking damn it all to hell for fuck’s sake. Jesus, there was no way that woman hadn’t cornered you at the bar already. She was a fucking viper.

“-drinking so much, we fell off the bed.”

Kill me. All Father, just smite me where I stand. This was creeping up my list of top 10 biggest fuck ups. 

The light, condensing way the journalist laughed made me feel like rolling my eyes into the back of my head and then all the way around again. While your face was a blank mask, your body language was very telling. You held a dark martini glass in one hand, death grip was probably a better description. Your phone was in your other hand, being gently tapped against your thigh. The line of tension set in your back looked about ready to snap.

“Ladies,” I smiled, taking up the spot next to you, my hand settling just above your low back.

“Tony, your new plaything is so insightful. Really knows her art,” Christine’s fake white teeth sparkled in the low light around the bar.

“Well I only date the best, Ms Everhart,” I smirked, cocking my head to the side ever so slightly.

“I was just telling her about our first meeting and-”

“And yet like some form of herpes you just keep coming back.”

I looked down at her over my sunglasses. Her smile faltered and the thrill of verbally beating someone made the smirk on my face transform into a smile. 

“Sweetheart, I do need to borrow you for just a moment.”

I didn’t even wait for you to respond, if you could at all. I wasn’t sure how much time you’d spent with that bitch, but even as we walked out of the event hall and started moving through the darkened museum the grip on your drink didn’t lessen. Our rapid clicking heels echoed as we marched around the circular ramp until we came up to the closed door of one of the galleries. The hand I had on your back didn’t move, I held you close to me while I used the lock picking function in my suit to pry open the door. I scanned the room, picking up the cameras and sensors. 

“Jay, disable the security in this room.”

I waited until that was done before I moved us to sit down on the hard leather bench in the center of the space. When I saw your glass shaking slightly, I took it from you and placed it on the floor. 

“I’m not some plaything... am I?”

“No, Babygirl,” I kissed your forehead. “You’re my sweet, precious girl. I’m not gonna let you go for anything.”

“I’m sorry I-I-I-I” you gulped. “‘M not pretty like the others.”

Tears started to slip down your cheeks. The night was really not going well for us. This was supposed to be fun, you getting to see some art, eating some fancy food, and looking all gorgeous for me. The horrible feeling of failure settled in my bones. It made me feel heavy and sticky. Your chipped fingernails dug into the bench. You were really trying to not cry. 

“Honey, you are so much more,” I wiped away the tears. “Smarter, funnier, and so so beautiful.”

“I don’t feel it right now,” you leaned into my hand, your body finally releasing the tension you’d been holding. “God at least I didn’t wear makeup.”

“Do you wanna go home?”

You made a weak noise, “no, I was excited to hear Steve and Bucky speak.”

“Why don’t we walk around here for a bit, then head down when their talk starts?”

“Yeah,” you sniffled, removing your shoes and standing up. 

I watched you walk around the room. You bent at the waist to read the cards next to the painting. Occasionally I saw you wipe at your eyes again. You stood in front of a familiar Pollock. I snapped a picture of you. The gorgeous line of your back just barely visible in the dark image, your hair shined in the security lighting, and shoes dangled from one hand. 

“Daddy,” your soft voice echoed around the cavernous space.

With your drink in hand, I heaved myself up to join you in front of my painting. You nudged my shoulder before tilting your head to the name card.

“You have any other secret masterpieces here? Do you own any of his wife’s paintings?” 

“I think I had Pep buy this at an auction when I was drunk,” you rolled your eyes at me but smiled. A real smile, the first one of the night. “I haven’t seen any of Lee’s paintings up for sale.”

“Can I have my coffee?”

“Is it just coffee?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you giggled.

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

“Ah, I see, Sir, this is only an attempt because gifts do not cause stress.”

“Exactly, now attempt four… let’s be honest that was more a gift for me.” 

  1. **CLOTHES, again**



“All of my clothes are either here or in Indiana.”

“You have like three outfits here.”

“I don’t have any clean clothes then.”

“Don’t look at me like some Dickensian child. Just buy some more.”

“What?” 

“Buy a bunch of clothes and have them delivered here, that way you don't feel like you’re living out of a suitcase.”

And that was how I ended up having a sea of plastic packaging and paper return sheets in my living room while you did a fashion show for me. So yeah, really more a gift for me. No explanation needed. 

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

“I’m assuming this final attempt is also classed as a need rather than a gift then.”

“Finally you are starting to get it, aren’t you supposed to be a super computer?”

“Very funny, Sir.”

  1. **LUGGAGE**



I was making breakfast on Thursday morning. You were still working through an all-nighter to finish up some calculus extra credit project and I was determined to get some kind of nutritious meal in you before I had to leave for a meeting in DC. The more stressed you got about upcoming finals, the less fruit and vegetables you ate and the more coffee and peanut butter crackers you consumed. I was really hoping the week off for Thanksgiving would do you some good. You could just chill at the tower, do whatever you wanted. Sleep even maybe. 

The rhythmic tapping on your laptop suddenly stopped and you gasped. 

“What’s up?” I turned the heat off on the oatmeal.

“I’ve been summoned.”

“By what? The government?”

“The devil.”

So your parents expected you to be home for Thanksgiving and they wanted you to fly out on the Sunday red-eye. What was with your parents and early flights? Also, talk about the late notice, did they not think you had plans with May and Peter? Which we did. As some kind of strange peace offering, May had invited me to your family Thanksgiving. I offered to have it here at the tower, but she insisted it be done the Parker way. 

But now you were on the phone at six am with a crying Peter, trying to calm him down and explain that everything would still be fine. You’d just have to virtually join him for Thanksgiving. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen that kid more attached to anyone, well maybe Ned and MJ. I had a feeling Pete would be spending the weekend with us after you hung up.

“So I guess he didn’t take that well?” I poured breakfast into our bowls and before tossing in any of the fresh fruit I had into your bowl. Fruit was healthy, had vitamins and stuff.

“He will be okay, better to tell him sooner rather than later. He basically said if I’m not here at Christmas, Spider-man would be kidnapping me,” you sighed heavily and came over to the kitchen.

“Do you wanna go home?”

“I’m home already, Daddy.”

I was late to DC. What can I say? It’s not like they were going to start the hearing without me anyway. You can’t say shit like that and expect me to not get all... emotional and aroused. I’m in my 40’s, not dead. Apparently your commitment to ‘us’ was a real turn on for me. 

It wasn’t until later - when the flight, endless hearings and meetings, and political bullshit ended at the doorstep of my house that I took the time to look at your messages. I’d rather not read your messages than leave you on read. I really was expected to be professional here so I left the device in my pocket all day like the good human adult I was. 

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

**_Babygirl 🌜 -_ ** _ Who steals a suitcase? _

**_Babygirl 🌜 -_ ** _ What kind of world do we live in that one of my roommates just thought they could leave a sticky note on my wardrobe saying “I’m borrowing this”? _

**_Babygirl 🌜 -_ ** _ Pete is saying this is a sign I just shouldn’t go. I can’t not go. They bought the ticket for me.  _

**_Babygirl 🌜 -_ ** _ Ugh. Sorry for ranting. Just so heckon rude. Hope your day's going well. You looked super profesh and cute on C-SPAN.  _

**_Babygirl 🌜 -_ ** _ Yes I did commandeer the lounge TV just to watch old white dudes ask stupid questions about the internet. You did an excellent job of not letting that get to you. _

**_Babygirl 🌜 -_ ** _ I GOT 100% ON MY CALC EXTRA CREDIT _

**_Babygirl 🌜 -_ ** _ I’M SCREAMING OMG _

**_Babygirl 🌜 -_ **

**_Babygirl 🌜 -_ ** _ Okay, I’m cool. Gotta love instant gratification. _

**_Babygirl 🌜 -_ ** _ DiiiinNNNneeEErrrrR _

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

I wasn’t sure if you really knew what a meal was sometimes. A plate of cut up raw vegetables and chicken nuggets surrounding, what I could only assume was, a bowl of ranch dressing was not my idea of dinner. But I had to give you props for eating a vegetable.

_ I can’t decide if I’m more proud of you acing your project or eating a vegetable. Either way, well done.  _ 😘

_ You’re such a nerd, can’t believe you watched any of that. I wouldn’t have and I was there.  _

It was nearly midnight, I wasn’t expecting you to reply to messages. In truth, I was hoping you’d be asleep even though you hadn’t sent a good night message. What I wasn’t expecting, was to get a video call from Peter. 

“I’ve kidnapped the target, she was way too easily distracted by Pokemon reruns.” Peter’s smiling face took up way too much of the screen before he extended his arm to show you sitting next to him on your bed. There was a momentary flare before your face appeared. The glow of your laptop and his phone were the only real light now.

For the first time, I noticed the pictures you had taped to your wall. A selection of old pictures of you and Peter together, in Indiana and in New York, were interspersed with photos of art works in museums and corn fields as sunset, or maybe sunrise. I also noticed close to your pillow was the first picture we took together and the PG photo strip.  _ Where do you even get photos printed anymore? _ The more X-rated ones were blasted away at your request, despite my attempt at puppy dog eyeing you into letting me keep them. 

“Hey,” you yawned. 

“Did you kidnap her or did she kidnap you?”

“I offered him a snack after patrol,” You smiled, but didn’t look away from the screen. 

“We should all be asleep right now,” I commented, walking through the empty house, discarding my jacket and tie across the sofa on my way to the kitchen.

"But Pikachu needs us," Peter rotated the screen and showed the cartoon you were watching. 

I recognized the yellow mouse… thing on screen from the latest Longchamp bag line. Maybe I could get you one of those before you left on Sunday. 

"I'm putting my phone down."

I wandered into the kitchen and got a whiskey glass from the cabinet. I poured a double then returned to you two, completely engrossed in the show. 

"Peter, does May know you aren't actually patrolling right now?"

"Mmmmmmmaybe," his guilty smile gave him away. 

"I'm already on thin ice with her, Pete, don't make me-"

A crash came from somewhere else in your room. Peter jumped, sticking himself to the top of the bunk above you. The light flickered and I saw you reaching around to move the weird privacy curtain you constructed.

"Oh shiiiittttt, sorry, We didn't -woah- mean to interrupt new boyfriend time."

"Can we meet him?"

Roommates, two drunken ones from the sound of it. I looked at Peter's beet-red face and had to hold in a laugh. His only sensible way outta this was to unstick himself, a challenge in its own. I was just glad he dropped the phone before he decided to become a piece of bedroom furniture. 

"I, uh, oh, mmm, I don't think now is a good time…"

"Oooooooo, well don't let us get in the way of sexy fun."

"Get it, girl."

"We should do a tactical vom…"

If Peter was red before, he was absolutely about to combust now. He was still in the Spidey suit, with one of your sweatshirts thrown over the top. God that would have been great to watch him explain that. Or you honestly because when you got flustered and embarrassed it just made me want to bend you over the nearest surface and take you.

But those were not appropriate thoughts to be having right now. 

"Okay, I'm gonna go now," he unstuck himself. "Bye Mr. Stark."

"Good night, kid," I waved and the call ended. 

I finished my whiskey and ordered the Pikachu bag.  _ Should be big enough to last you a few days, you said you had clothes at home too. _ It wasn't until I had flopped down into bed that you messaged again, asking if I still wanted to video call. Like I would say no to seeing your beautiful face. 

"Hey," you whispered, laying in bed with earphones in. 

"Hey, Babygirl."

Even in the blue-white light of the phone screen, I could see your cheeks turn a bit pink. 

"I got a bag ordered for you to take home."

"You know you don't have to keep buying me things. It's really okay, Daddy."

I hummed, the familiar thrill of hearing you call me that washed over me in my drowsy state. 

"Well, what can I say? You're worth it and I enjoy seeing you with nice things."

"I feel bad not getting you anything."

"You are more than enough Sweetheart."

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

"If she doesn't like being dotted on, why do you keep doing it?"

"Because my girl deserves the world, Jay."


	2. Your PoV

**+1. AN UPGRADE**

When my alarm started going off at four am, I groaned. I didn’t wanna be awake. In truth, I didn’t want to leave at all. Tony’s bed was warm and I was enjoying hiding away from the world after Friday night. It had been… a lot. The social and emotional exhaustion mixed with the stress had kept me awake for much longer than I admitted to Tony. When we got back in the wee hours of Saturday morning, after forcing Happy to make a pit stop for burgers, we ate on the couch dressed up in all our finery. 

“Can I post this picture of you?”

He showed me the image, I looked so different from how I felt in that moment. In the picture, I appeared calm, relaxed while viewing the paintings. Inside I was a horrible bundled knot of insecurities. But social media was a performance, and I would always perform for Tony.

“Yeah,” I said, swallowing another bite of my cheeseburger. 

“You can say no, you know.”

I looked over at him. He was tired, exhausted probably based on the bags under his eyes, with a smear of mustard caught in his beard. I didn't think I could ever say no to him. 

"Yeah, I know."

So he made the post on Instagram. Later when we woke up sometime on Saturday morning proper, we checked the news. Even over video, the frames of the glasses Tony had given me projected the light flare to hide my identity. There were comments about the Valentino dress I wore, some nice and others rude. Apparently, my laziness had started a new trend of just wearing your chipped nail polish. I hadn't really thought about it, too surprised with myself that it was still on. Of course, Tony's post was featured in every news story. I mostly just ignored that, like I'd been ignoring most of social media. 

But seeing as my identity was still unknown and conspiracy sites were still clawing at any information they could to figure out who I was, it was easy to put that part of the night behind me. 

I rolled over in bed. Tony must have not come to bed at all. The sigh that left my body was long and deep. I'd hoped there would be time for more cuddles before I needed to leave for the airport. Maybe I could get away with a few more minutes snuggled up in bed. 

My Instagram practically exploded when I opened it. Likes, comments, tagged posts, and DMs flashed up on the screen. Ignoring them, I went straight to Tony's story first, watching him do a test for a mini blaster that caused Bruce to freak out. For as much as I stayed here, I barely saw the other man. Next Steve's story played, a video of him and Bucky at the gym. Peter's story was him, Ned, and MJ doing some… thing, I wasn't really sure what. That was enough of that. 

I moved on to Tony's account. There it was, another viral picture.  _ A masterpiece with a Pollock. The best date a guy could ask for @ThatArtGirl thanks sweetheart.  _

Stupid, happy tears slipped down my cheeks. Even the thought of going home couldn't ruin how… loved I felt.  _ What he isn't telling you is that I anxiety cried before this picture lol  _ 😌  _ #HesWorthIt #ImCryBaby _

Immediately I saw a response from Tony.  _ If you're Cry-Baby, I must be Allison Vernon-Williams. #YourMyCrybaby _

"Please tell me you understood that reference," he walked into the bedroom.

"I did not," I put my glasses on and sat up. "Where were you?"

"Just working on something in the lab."

He crawled into the bed, pulling my phone from my hand. We definitely had time for this.

"When do we need to leave for the airport?"

"In like 30 minutes," I smiled, as he moved between my legs. 

"Plenty," he kissed my forehead, "of," he kissed my nose "time."

He kissed my mouth slowly, controlling me with a hand on the back of my neck. Tony took me apart piece by piece with his hands and mouth. The feel of his skin against mine shot thrills right through me. His body heat enveloped me better than any blanket ever could. His words watered my mind garden, sending me floating somewhere with no worries, just me and Tony. Even when he pushed me over the edge again, when I thought I couldn't, my body did it. Euphoria washed over me, words fell from my mouth that I couldn't understand. 

God, I loved this. I loved him.

"I love you."

The words came out of me, muffled by the sheets and my own blissed out sounds.

"What Baby?" Tony leaned over my back, still hard and buried deep inside me.

"I love you, Daddy." I felt him twitch inside me before he pulled out. Panic washed over me, only to be scrubbed away when I was flipped onto my back. The arc reactor shined brightly between us. 

"Tell me again, Babygirl."

"I love you," I touched his chest, hand over his heart. 

"Again," he plunged into me.

I lost count of how many times I said it to him. Probably well over a thousand versions of the confession by the time we actually got out of bed. 

We were late to the airport, but when I gave him a final kiss goodbye, our first time really away from each other about to begin, he gave me the best gift possible. 

"I still expect you to be a good girl while you're away."

"I promise," I whispered, despite the empty departures area. 

"Mmm," he hummed, rubbing his thumb over my cheek.

He pulled me into another kiss. I still felt love drunk from this morning. My fingers clung to his flannel jacket, his silly incognito clothes did nothing to quell my desire for him. I sighed when he pulled away, cheeks flushed and a dopey grin plastered on my face.

"I love you 3000."


End file.
